Five days prior......
Darian walked through some woods just outside along the border of the Wasteland, his Crossbolt Gun strapped across his back, a simple kerchief covering his mouth and his goggles hiding the deep blue hues. Hanging from the waist belt was a sizable object wrapped in cloth, the bottom of which was stained a dark foreboding red. His travel continued until he reached a seemingly impassable wall of black granite. He looked around and then checked behind him once again to make sure he wasn't followed; he'd had to do this several times already, and while he wasn't the best at stealth, his having to hunt to provide for his former family had taught him much on how to stalk and kill prey.
"Seems clear" the lad thought to himself; he then silently muttered "Sron dai vahn, Arcereus" as had become custom for him. A small wavering tune was heard, a customary sign that the strange phrase had been received. But for a small while, nothing happened; Darian looked around again and was about to speak the phrase again before suddenly a grey-haired Dark Elf appeared next to him. The humanoid was clothed in almost exactly the same clothing as Darian, except he wore no goggles and his right sleeve had been cut away to allow for a blade weapon to be attached. In his right hand he held a dead goblin’s head. “Still so sloppy, Darian…You’re lucky I do a secondary sweep; why Talon Company let a dirt-tiller like you into its ranks I’ll never understand” the Elf commented as it peered into the eyes of the dead halfling; the human grimaced a bit, but held his tongue from any foul words and replied, “Sorry…Won’t happen again, Arcereus”. At this, the Elf cracked a grin and said, “You’re getting wiser though, I’ll give you that. And truthfully, you’re a helluva lot better than most mercs in our chapter. Ol’ John almost got himself caught about three times last week”. This always confused Darian; why would Arcereus bother insulting him and then compliment him shortly afterward? “Now come on; don’t want to keep Boss waiting, do ya?” Arcereus continued on casually; the Elf then traced an eagle’s foot into the air, strange light appearing where his finger had been before the finished insignia sank into the rock.
A small rumbling was heard before a tunnel opened up in the black stone; Arcereus stepped to the side, giving a mock gentleman’s bow and saying, “Ladies first”. Darian just snorted derisively and walked in, the tunnel entrance closing up as the Elf followed behind him. The tunnel itself was about ten feet high and wide enough for two to walk side by side relatively comfortably; though someone like a Minotaur or Half-Orc would probably feel a bit confined. As their little traversal through the stony passage continued on, torches flared up of their own free will to light the way. Soon, voices could be heard; truth be told, it was one voice, and it was easily distinguishable: Boss was chewing out someone again. It was often considered a quiet day if Boss didn’t yell at someone at least ten times; Arcereus caught up to Darian and whispered, “Bet you five gold pieces it’s John again” to which Darian replied “You’re on”. As they went through a wooden door, they found themselves in a rather spacious room and strangely enough, it wasn’t John that was getting chewed out, but a recruit that had just joined up. The boy couldn’t have been older than sixteen, but right now he looked like he was going to wet himself; and when dealing with someone like Boss, only a few weren’t afraid of him and for good reason. The man’s strange bright gold hues bored into the young recruit’s, a glare that many rumored would freeze even the Dark King in his place; and that was all he was doing right now: Glaring. “Looks like you lose” Darian whispered smugly; the Elf grumbled and dropped five gold into Darian’s outstretched hand. “Ah, cheer up; you always like seeing the recruits piss themselves” the human merc muttered; Arcereus smirked slyly and said, “Heh, guess you’re right”.
The recruit tried to open his mouth to speak, but Boss – an intimidating man of nearly six feet height and packed with muscle that was outlined in the reinforced Talon Commander armor, his shaved hair and goatee red as blood – shut up him by shouting, “You think you have a right to speak?! Be lucky I don’t kill you right here and now! And I assure you, the next time some pansy little dwarves make you run off, I’m putting a bullet in your head! Now scram!” The kid was more than happy to oblige, and took off like a Frost Elf from an inferno; this earned a hearty collective chuckle from the other mercs – composed of humans, Dark Elves, and a young Minotaur – before dying down. Boss just sat down in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose, grumbling “Damned kids…Don’t know shit”. At this, Darian gave a small cough to announce his presence. Boss looked up and said, his expression brightening a little, “Hey, there’s my number one and five!” Of course Darian was the number five; Boss kept a list of those that did good for Talon Company and their image, and Arcereus was at the top. ”Darian….” He paused to rub his hands together, “Tell me you got something good. After Nicholas’ fuck-up, we need something to restore confidence in our customers”. Darian grinned and dropped the bloody package on Boss’ desk; the Talon Company leader untied the cloth to reveal a Dwarven head; it looked more like Darian had chopped the head off a statue, but only because a Dwarf’s flesh was as solid as the stone they worked with. “Hehehahaha, you fucking got ‘im? No way” Boss stated with obvious glee as he held up the head, “I finally have you. Nothing to say,
Lieutenant Igeer, you snarky fucking bastard? Twenty of my hunters you killed, and now…You’re hunted. Not so fun when you’re the prey, is it?”
Darian gave another small cough, making Boss snap out of his little triumphant moment. “Oh right…Here’s your pay” he stated as another merc dropped a weighty bag of coins on the table; in it was about ten platinum coins, fifteen gold coins, eight silver coins and thirty bronze coins. “Boss….Remember? Information?” Darian then asked as he scooped his payment, to which Boss replied, “Sorry, nothing new….What about that lead in Norr? Didn’t that turn up anything?” Darian shook his head, “Nothing useful; all the guy said was that the last he saw, the group holding her were headed east”. Boss nodded, “Well, I wish I could tell you more, Darian, but he was all I had for now”. Darian couldn’t believe his luck; his fist clenched as he thought of whatever cruel torture she was being put through. And all he could do was rely on hearsay to try and find her. Taking a deep breath, Darian then added, “So….What’s next?” Boss coughed and said, “One of our more…loyal customers has been having trouble with imps raiding his caravans. Says the same thing every time: A small band of six. Never kills the guards or driver, just knocks them out and helps themselves to the cargo. He and I talked, and he’s sending out a decoy caravan in a few days”. Boss then snapped his fingers and another of his lackies laid a map out on the table, tracing his left pointer finger along a red line, “This is the path it will take. He wants you to kill the bastards. Now I ain’t asking you to carry six heads back; just a finger will do. But don’t come back until you got all six of the little bastards. This” Boss paused to point to an X on the map before continuing, “is a good spot to watch the caravan from. Nice field of view and with your aim, you might be able to get all six there. I’m expecting you’ll be out for a while, so just report back whenever you’re done. You’ll meet the contact in Nerys for your payment”. After studying the map, Darian realized just how far into the Wasteland this overwatch point was; that was going to be one hell of a hike. Luckily, he still had three syringes of his heart medication, so he should be alright. “I assume this is the part where you tell me to…” “Get the fuck out? You got it” Boss finished for him, to which Darian gave a curt nod and after placing the goggles back over his eyes, made his exit for his next assignment.
Present day......
Darian had a good run; the overwatch point suggested allowed him to pick off about five of the twitchy bastards before the sixth bolted. A string containing five severed index fingers hung at his waist, and now…It was a game of cat and mouse to add the sixth to the lot. Unfortunately, imps were a fair bit quicker than humans. Well, perhaps quicker wasn’t the word, but they were definitely a sight more agile and with their small stature could hide easily. He did have one thing going for him, though: Imps were often only confident in groups. Get one by itself and it’s a right little coward. For two days, Darian pursued this one imp, trying to keep on its tail, not knowing that it was taking him towards yet another strange turn in his life. On and on he pushed, eventually passing beyond the border to Nerys itself; Darian probably wouldn’t know where he was, as he’d never been here before and only heard it mentioned a few times. Even though he didn’t pay much attention; he has his own goals and sightseeing in cities wasn’t one of them. But even he was a bit shocked when arrived to see such massive structures; men really built these things? How long did it take, he wondered? A small squeak was heard, snapping him out of his thoughts; he peered to his left to see the imp looking at him from around a corner. “Hey!” Darian shouted as he gave chase; unfortunately, the imp would disappear right into a thick crowd of people in the plaza. He needed to get to higher ground. “Damn it” he cursed as he scanned for a way to get up high; he eventually spotted some crates to his left, which lead up a smaller rooftop. Sprinting over there, he made his way up and to his surprise found that there were more rooftops of the same height; he could use those to scan the crowds and pick out his target.
Six times he had to jump over the narrow gaps in between the buildings, but eventually he had a good enough vantage point to see nearly everyone in the plaza.
”So many people…Need to be careful” Darian thought to himself; Boss wasn’t overly concerned with collateral damage, but Darian always tried his best not to hit innocent bystanders. Taking the Crossbolt from over his shoulder, he fuddled with the various lenses that made up the sight until it gave him the proper magnification. “Alright, now where are you, you twitchy little shit…” the merc muttered as he scanned the crowd; he just hoped the bastard wouldn’t be too hard to find. After about ten minutes of scanning, Darian finally saw the imp; the little guy was moving slowly and deliberately, looking over his shoulder to see if the human was still pursuing him. Darian just watched, a little grin crossing his face as he saw the obvious fear. A solid steel arrow - he could have used a balanced bolt to pick him off, but it ran the risk of piercing multiple targets – was drawn from the quiver slung over his left shoulder and placed into one of the six barrels of the weapon. The string was drawn back until a click was heard; two turns of the induction rotor would give it the necessary range and penetration power, and now Darian was ready for the kill. His scope followed the target and even when he lost it, the people jumping aside and shooing him off served as markers for the imp’s progress. Eventually, the halfling reached a thin patch of people just before he would move out of Darian’s view; he needed to kill it now. Unfortunately he wouldn’t get the chance; the crowd quickly grew too thick and he couldn’t get a clear shot, so he powered down his gun and pursued him again.
Moving across the rooftops again, he found the imp again; taking a few steps back, Darian gave a running leap and jumped from the roof, his relatively heavier form colliding with the imp’s and causing them roll about, each struggling to get the upper hand in the fight. “Come on, you….” Darian growled, trying to pin the imp so he could snap its neck or something; the halfling then bit his hand, forcing him to release his grip and allowing it to take off. Darian cursed and followed down an abandoned alleyway; small metal bins for garbage lined the deserted passage. “Fucking hell…Where’d he go?” the merc grumbled; a small clang was heard to his right. Darian cocked his head and moved closer; he could hear whimpering. A familiar whimpering coming out of the bin farthest away; Darian pulled back the lid and found the imp in question. Unholstering his pistol, Darian cocked the hammer and after saying, “How fitting”, placed the gun in the crack between the lid and bin and fired twice; looking back inside, he saw the imp dead, blood leaking from the wounds in its chest. He then reached in and severed the final index finger, threading it onto the string where his other trophies were; the lid was then placed back over the bin, leaving the body where it belonged: In the trash. A short while later, Darian met up with the man behind the request; a rather wealthy caravan company owner, he was apparently responsible for over half of the commerce between the various cities, towns and settlements in the Wasteland. After a few words of thanks and pleasantries, Darian left six fingers poorer and a healthy sum of coins richer. He then thought of something; this town was huge. And it
was in the eastern direction. Maybe he could find some information about his mother. See if anyone saw her or perhaps the people that held her.
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